Perfect Ten

I subscribe to the Billy Connolly school of meteorology/fashion:

"There's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes. Get yourself a sexy raincoat and live little!"

I also like to liberally paste the same principles over subjects like "the dark", "strange territory" and "unwelcoming terrain".

And so, this evening, I set off into a torrential downpour with a laminated section of map in one hand, compass in the other, and gert headtorch on ma heed. My goal? A ten mile(ish) loop of south west Farnham, following footpaths onto new ground, that the map suggested might be a little tricky to navigate at night.

Slightly damp underfoot



It started easy enough, with a little warm up along the top edge of Farnham Park, and on unmade roads I've run, and ridden my bike along before. Where tonight's route differed, was at a T junction in a minor lane, where I would normally turn left. This evening, while the rain limited visibility to maybe 30yds, I was going straight on, through an overgrown hedge, over the most rickety stile you could ever hope to break your neck on, into a vast and featureless grassy pasture, in the vain attempt of finding a distant fence crossing.

Now that the clouds had run out of cats and dogs, and had begun to rain old women and sticks, some canny mapology lead me straight to the fence crossing. The map revealed the line of the footpath followed a very slight depression, so all I had to do was splosh downhill, following the rainwater as it poured from the field. Another couple of stiles to negotiate, and the now enclosed footpath was becoming a torrent, scouring the gully clear of mud and leaves, and stirring up yellow silt from the sandstone beneath. Widened to meet the main A31, the slowing waters bulged into the near carriagway, where cars and trucks took turns to hurl it into the trees along the roadside. I decided not to hang about for the next one, and splashed my way across the tarmac to the comparative shelter of the driveway opposite.

Taking time to consult the map as water trickled from my nose in a steady stream, I considered that this evening's route may not have been best considered, given the weather. I realised I was about to cross the land belonging to a building called Willey Mill, which would indicate more water, and I recalled how this whole corridor of land was currently locked in a conservation row, during which it had been entitled "Farnham Water Meadows". Hmmmm.

Which this evening, turned out to be a quite accurate description. Once I'd negotiated the very un-waymarked Mill (if people worry about men in headtorches snooping around their expensive houses late at night, a few signposts might help), I crossed the mill race and overflow, set my compass, vaulted a four bar gate (there may have been a fifth underwater) and proceeded to ford a large field, disguised as a shallow lake, which stretched further than my headtorch could pick out in the rain. I figured I could always turn back now, but I was wet already, the ground underfoot was grippy enough, if a little damp, and whilst the water which surrounded me for hundreds of metres was all quite clearly flowing, it was doing so quite slowly. If I live long enough to have any, I shan't recommend this kind of activity to my kids, but I'm also unlikely to forget it.

With the water rising as far as my knees, and then gradually receding, I finally emerged onto visible land after crossing beneath the railway, through a concrete floored tunnel in which the photo above was taken. My route then rose to track level, and against the lights of Farnham in the distance, I could see islands of grass and hedge poking from a great string of black lakes, and the form of the river itself emerging and disappearing as the ground changed height.

My run continued, joined and rejoined by tonight's running partner, the Upper Wey river. Through Farnham, it raged under ornamental footbridges where children paddle in summer, and to the east in steeper ground, it enveloped the narrow riverside footpath, forcing me up into the ivy of the railway enbankment.

With memories of crappy runs washed away by the rising waters, I finished tonight's outing stood in a puddle outside my house, with a big grin on my face, rinsing my sexy running shoes.

Some days you train for the medals. Some days are the medals.

Summary:
Today: 10.1 miles, 1:32 hrs, 1388 cals
January: 239.8 miles, 35.06 hrs, 32457 cals